Et pourtant il disait quelque chose.
Il parlait. On se parlait. Ses mots étaient de plus
en plus rares.
Il parle. La nuit tombe d'un mot à l'autre, de
syllabe en syllabe.
Il voit les objets. les couleurs disparaître,
s'écouler dans leurs ombres. Il les regarde
s'effacer, il les regarde de plus en plus
intensément.
Seul le blanc résiste au noir.
Qui s'amasse.
Jusqu'où
your seconds stretched over me
like the arms of a lover
day and night
I thank you for my gifts
the whispers of his lips
(oh, his lips)
the air built around feathers
in towers and towers of freedom
the blades of grass betraying the wind
the blood gushing in petals of tulips
(oh, his tulips)
the sun rays crushed by skin
like strawberries by tongue
you leave me no choice
no other choice but promise
on the silence of your lambs
that I’ll be yours,
all yours
until May do us part
you remember the corridor?
the corridor which carried our footsteps
like a golden chariot King Ahab
it took forever to understand
the white piano’s tune
our heart beats put it to shame
with every passing moment
we reached the room
turned the knob
the walls had pearled silky paper
carefully designed for dream catching
and we knew
there was no exit for love
no stairway, no door
no way out through the narrow balcony
but in each other’s arms
your mouth stilled
by mine
a wet gift from
the sea
forgotten words
This is what keeps me going
It is my path of knowing,
My essence belongs to me
I'm not bound to pay no fee,
From under my skin I slowly emerge
New-borns from myself I endessly forge,
Fractions of one-second emotions die
One by one in darkness they fly,
Flawless beliefs begin to cristalize
My "I" is non of your concern how it dies!
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